The End of the War
by Duality Crest
Summary: In the final days of the Machina War, Yu Yevon senses defeat is inevitable, yet he will not allow Bevelles forces the satisfaction of seizing his city. How far will he go to preserve his home, and how many must die? Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note:** This is my first FF fanfiction. I hope I've stayed true to the backstory told in the game, although slight deviations are inevitable. Reviews would be appreciated.

Please note, there may be some game spoilers in this tale.

* * *

"Have you heard the latest rumours yet Azin?" cried a voice from behind the First Lord of the Armies of Zanarkand.

"Your late Sen," replied Azin as he turned to face his apprentice, Second Lord Sen, "and if you're referring to the latest sphere casts from Zanar, then yes I have heard them"

It was a cold night in the city tonight and both men wore their thick black uniform jackets on top of their formal grey garb. Now that the Sen had arrived at the central fountain plaza, the two most powerful men in Zanarkand's army began walking towards the Fayth Palace for a meeting with the ruler of their beloved city.

"Well, do you believe them?" asked Sen, glancing briefly at a large sphere screen that lined one wall of the path to the Palace

Azin, who wore a pained expression at the tension in his friends voice decided to try and do a passable imitation of Zanars voice, " 'The High Summoner has sent his daughter, the lady Yunalesca into hiding, is this a sign he fears the worst for our great city,' 'recent reports from the Fayth Palace suggest that the our lord Yu Yevon is considering surrendering to St Bevelle,' and my personal favourite, 'A spy, whose identity cannot be revealed, may have been captured in Bevelle. Leaked reports suggest that he may have been caught while attempting to destroy Bevelle's latest weapon. We can only hope he succeeded before his capture.' Of course I don't believe them, and you're a fool if you believe anything that Zanar says. His just one of those bloody doomsayers."

"But sir, he's been right before though, hasn't he?"

Still sensing the tension in Sens voice, Azin said, "It's, been a while since you called me sir during our conversations Sen. I suggest you relax, or you'll never get in the Palace."

"Yes sir…Azin"

As they approached the two guards at the entrance to the Fayth Palace, Azin spoke his code and ungloved his hand to allow palm to be scanned, as did Sen.

"Sirs, your weapons as well please," said one of the guards.

"Of course," replied Azin as he unbuckled the rifle that was slung over his back and removed the blade that was sheathed about his waist beneath his jacket while Sen also handed over his rifle and the large claw he generally used in combat.

Once both Azin and Sen surrendered their weapons to the guards and had there identities confirmed, they were allowed to enter the Palace.

Passing the saluting guards, Azin continued, "You've never met the High Summoner have you Sen?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, take it from me, he's a coeurl kitten compared to some of his aides, so don't worry about this meeting and relax. Just don't take any notice of what Zanar says."

"Yes Azin," replied Sen as they approached the elevator that would take them to any fayth statue in the palace, and also to the chambers of the High Summoner.

Though he sounded calmer, there was still some uncertainty in his voice, causing Azin to continue. "Do you remember last year when Bevelle took Armenal? Zanar thought those damned Hypello might join us. Really, the Hypello? They can't summon, can't even hold a gun properly, let alone yield a blade. Plus, he's always thought the Ronso would join us, 'They're always ready for a fight' he said, but as long as neither side attack the mountain, they couldn't care less, they even let us keep that facility on Gagazet's peak. You should know better than to believe the tripe he comes out with."

"I apologise sir, I should know better"

"Good, because that's the one lesson I drummed into you from the moment you became my apprentice. Always keep an open mind. That's why you never managed to call your family aeon; your family was always pestering you to do it. You closed you mind to the fayth and believed that you were only doing it to please your family, not for the wonders an aeon holds. That's why Phoenix never graced you with her presence.

"But after your first week, you learned to open you mind to the power of the fayth. I even let you pray at my family's fayth. That somewhat displeased everyone at home, but I'm the family elder and saw great potential in you, and so did Atamos.

"So I repeat, always keep an open mind, especially when it comes to the Zanars rumours."

"Yes sir…" Sen had heard this speech many times by now, so it was a less than convincing reply.

"And when I tell a story, try to sound more interested than that," replied Azin, with a bemused smile on his face.

Their lift had now reached the Falcon Gate, the great Kilikan Oak doors that marked the entrance of the High Summoners chambers, "Shall we proceed, or would you prefer another lecture?"

"Lets just get this over with, I'll be happy to hear someone else speak for a change"

"Hey, enough of that cheek in the High Summoners presence" scolded an aide that had just appeared and who now ushered the two officers into the chamber.


	2. Chapter 2

"Greetings gentlemen," called the elderly summoner Yu Yevon, who rose from his desk as he saw Azin and Sen approach, "please take a seat, we have a lot to discuss."

The High Summoners chamber was a vast cavity high in the palace. Three of the four walls held a view of the city and the fourth, from which they entered had an extensive array of sphere consoles and occasional doors to the High Summoners private chambers where he could be away form the aides and officials that almost constantly harassed him. Near the front wall, through which could be seen the stadium and the docks, and the ocean in the far distance, was an immense desk, which, like the back wall, had numerous controls and displays. Surrounded by the desk, on the side where Yu Yevon now stood, was a large, plush leather chair stuffed with chocobo down, while on the other side stood two small, but no less comfortable looking chairs. In the centre of the chamber was the fayth of the aeon Alexander; a fayth only for the ruler of Zanarkand and those deemed worthy, of whom, Azin was one of the select few.

"Thank you my lord summoner, it is an honour to be able to meet with you," cited Azin. "May I also take this opportunity to introduce my apprentice and now my Second Lord Sen who replaced Lord Treb after his tragic loss during the blockade mission to Macalania."

"It is truly an honour to meet with you my lord," saluted Sen.

"The honour is mine young man," said Yevon, offering a wizened old hand to the officer who accepted the gesture. Beneath the High Summoners pallid grey eyes, both Azin and Sen, who had accepted the proffered seats, could see the pride Yevon felt for his city, and the fire that burned within him to protect it. "Have either of you two heard today's latest spherecasts from Zanar?"

"Why yes sir," replied Azin, "we were just discussing those rumours on our way down here."

"And what is your opinion on these…rumours?" asked Yevon as he returned to his seat.

"We prefer to keep an open mind until we have all the facts, don't we Second Lord?"

"Yes sir."

At this, Yevon sat with an amused smile playing on his old features, "Of course you do. Well, let me tell you now, Zanars latest reports are, for the most part, true. I have sent my daughter and her husband Zaon into hiding for the duration of the war because I fear it is only a matter of time before we are overwhelmed and I have no desire to see them die when that time comes. And yes, a spy was recently captured in Bevelle, which was also when I believe a particularly gifted young summoner went missing from the Peak Facility. I trust you are aware of who I am referring to First Lord?"

"Unfortunately, I am my Lord. Summoner Lenne's disappearance has so far been chalked up to cowardice among the officers, and a tragic loss in a battle among the general populace."

"Yes, and know you know why. The spy, Shuyin, and Lenne were… involved romantically. We sent him to Bevelle to confirm reports of a massive weapon being constructed there, which he did, before being ordered to either destroy it or use it somehow to annihilate Bevelle. Apparently he also managed to contact Lenne, who left shortly afterwards to try and stop him. He reported rumours among St Bevelle's engineers of the machina being unable to distinguish between friend and foe. We believe he told Lenne of these rumours and it seems that they scared her. It was a concern for us too, but St Bevelle is smart enough to know not to build something like that, at least I hope he is. But they were cornered in the machinas chamber and shot. Lenne unfortunately died, but Shuyin survived and is now being held captive, awaiting execution. That is their fate as far as Bevelle is willing to tell us anyway…."

"Sir, I believe Zanar reported that you might be considering capitulation?" ventured Azin.

The amused smile faded from the old face when Azin said that. "Yes, I am also aware of that particular report."

"Well sir, is there any truth to it?"

The suggestion of surrendering infuriated Yevon when he heard Zanar this morning, and the fury it engendered had not lessened now that he had heard it a second time. He rose from his desk, the fire behind his grey eyes intensified and his voice rose to impossible high volumes for someone his age. "If there is one thing that is certain in this war, it's that I will never, NEVER, surrender to Bevelle. I would rather DESTROY Zanarkand than let her fall to Bevelle. I should have Zanar shot for evoking such blasphemy!"

Starting to calm down now, Yevon sat again, but with the same amused smile on his feature, but a smile that was there for all the wrong reasons. "But I won't. I need every citizen of Zanarkand either fighting, or preserving what's worth fighting for, which brings us neatly on to the point of why I called you hear today."

Using the controls on his desk, a large sphere screen emerged from surface and onto it he placed a map of Spira. The cities of Besaid, Baaj and Luca, all connected by the Great Triangle, a massive highway spanning the ocean between these three machina cities, were coloured grey, signifying there status as neutral to Zanarkand's war with Bevelle. Also present was the desert metropolis of Bikanel, which was coloured grey as well. Coloured red was Bevelle and Armenal over the Moonflow, a city that was also grey until last year when Bevelle seized it, symbolising their status as enemy territory. And finally was Zanarkand, and her tiny facility on Gagazet's peak, who were both blue.

"Over the last few months," began Yevon. "St Bevelle has been moving his forces out of the Moonflow and onto the Electric Fields," highlighting the cratered land that represented the fields. The screen then flashed to a recording from a reconnaissance drone that had been flying over the plains for a while now. "As you can see, machina are moving in from both end of the Fields. It appears as though he intends to use this region as a staging ground for an assault on Zanarkand."

Sen piped up, "Wouldn't the grassland below Gagazet make a better staging ground to attack us?"

"If Bevelle's army was mostly human yes," answered Azin, "but theirs is mostly machina. It appears that we've discovered why they annexed Armenal."

"I agree First Lord," responded Yevon, "Armenal has much greater production capacity than Bevelle, and much greater access to mineral resources from the riverbed and nearby valleys. With the manufactories of both Bevelle and Armenal working at maximum, they can produce more than enough units to wipe us out."

"And sending them to the Electric Fields means that they can have their units fully active without needing to recharge the power cells because of all the discharges constantly recharging them. If you consider this and the fact that fiends often roam the Fields, their adaptive programming can learn to be much more efficient fighters.

"So when they do finally attack, their power cells will be full and their software primed for combat. All that they need to worry about is joining their limited contingent of humans, all probably officers trying to get some glory, to their overpopulated contingent of… oh I don't know… half a million machina units and getting all that to cross Gagazet." As Azin finished his sentence, it appeared as thought one of the machina the drone had been monitoring spotted it and fired its twin cannons, resulting in the screen suddenly being overcome with static and returning to the world map as that marked the end of the recorded transmission.

"Couldn't have said it better myself Azin," continued Yevon. "When they leave the Electric Fields, they'll have charged their power cells more than enough to allow them to take over all of Spira, not just Zanarkand.

"That is why I'm ordering every man, woman and child who are able to fight to the Peak facility. I'm even authorising the use of machina for this battle. Your army will gather at Gagazet's peak and will wait for Bevelle's forces to start moving. Once they do, you are to take your army to the Northern Grasslands and engage them."

"Sir…" began Azin, but Yevon cut him off quickly.

"I know, even with every combat able person on the field, and the thousand or so combat veterans that have recently returned from the Peak, we're still outnumbered ten to one. Believe me, I share your concerns too. I wouldn't want to go into battle with fifty thousand inexperienced summoners, two thousands scared mages, three thousand hurriedly trained warriors, and five hundred drone machinas which were, until yesterday, used to defend against what few fiends appear nearby. But, such is the necessity of war.

"This will be our last stand, if we fall here, we will not rise again. You must not falter in your resolve, must not waver in your strength, and must not show fear." Leaning over the desk to look Azin in the eye, Yevon simply said, "Am I understood First Lord," then looking Sen in the eye, "and Second Lord, of the Armies of Zanarkand?"

In unison, the two officers replied, "Yes Sir, we will not fail you."

"Excellent, my aide has a list of all people in the registry suitable. Gather them up and send them to the Peak. The machina is being removed as we speak and will be sent up to you once you arrive.

"We don't have the luxury of unending supplies of power so do not activate more drones than necessary until you reach the Mountain Gate and are preparing to engage the enemy.

"Time is of the essence, we do not know how long Bevelle will wait. You may be up there for months, or mere days. We will try to keep your armies fresh by sending new recruits from the academies up to you, but you'll have to find someway of keeping up morale while you wait.

"We recently lost an airship near the poles and only essential flights are permitted for now while we determine the cause, and since Bevelle started jamming our long range teleporters, you'll have to walk to the Peak facility. However, I have deemed the transport of the machina as essential so that should make your journey slightly easier at least.

"Good luck Lord Azin. I can't stress enough how important this is. When you return victorious, we shall have a blitzball tournament in your honour"

"Thank you my lord," Azin finally said as he and Sen rose from their seats. "We look forward to hearing of our enemies approach so that we can begin ours."

"Good, you may go now Lords Azin and Sen," and they left through the door that was again being held open by an aide.

* * *

Once Yu Yevon was sure he was alone, he switched the sphere screen to contact Vararla. This woman had been doing a special project for Yevon somewhere near equator, and he felt it was time to see if it was finished. 

Almost immediately, Vararla appeared on his screen, her young visage being a sharp contrast to Yevon's old body.

"How are things progressing, Vararla?"

"Quite well my lord, we have excavated the amount of earth and rocks that you requested and have put in a tunnel to the surface of the specified dimensions. Sufficed to say, we have nearly finished, all that's left is to shore up some of the smaller cavities that collapsed during the excavation. If you would like to inspect the cavern before you plan to use it, we would be welcome to accommodate you."

"That will not be necessary Vararla. Your progress is satisfactory, and further work is unnecessary. You and you team will return to Zanarkand as soon as you have posted some sentries at the entrance and will begin preparations among the populace. Make sure that everyone knows what to do when it begins, and where to go as well."

Vararla, now looking slightly downcast at the prospect of leaving her work unfinished, and at the solemn nature of her next task, reluctantly acknowledged the order and terminated the link. Yevon was now truly alone in his chamber now, save for the thousands of fayth who were a constant part of his mind, and whose dreaming inspired his plan. All that was left to happen now was for Bevelle's army to start moving and then Zanarkand's fate would be sealed.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where are you?" muttered an old scholar as he looked through a variety of spheres in the Zanarkand central library. "Ah, found you," he said as he pulled out a sphere from its socket and carried it over to the nearest free sphere player.

"Development of machina, do not understand why you was in the summoning section, but I found you eventually," he continued to mutter to no-one in particular as he began to play the sphere, taking notes every now and then, but mostly just listening to it absentmindedly. He was deeply troubled by what he had recently heard.

The songstress Lenne had recently died in battle, or so he was told. He could not help but remember when he won the opportunity to meet with her and even shake her hand. That was before the war though. Since then, not even the blitzball games had been enough to calm the storm that he felt was approaching Zanarkand, but he still had strong memories of those happy days, days when all he would ever do is study old spheres and learn about the past. He was especially proud of his own private collection of spheres, including that of the first ever blitzball match, shortly after the games invention, between the Zanarkand Abes and the Zanarkand Ogres recorded three hundred years ago. The Abes were still competing, but unfortunately, the Ogres folded over a hundred years ago, a fact which made his sphere the most valuable of his collection.

That was until the songstress Lenne had died. He had recorded the whole day when he met her, and now that sphere was the most valuable thing in his life.

Unfortunately, that life was about to be thoroughly derailed.

"Ah-hem," said a deep voice from behind the old scholar.

"Yes?" he replied as he turned to face the man who had awoke him from his musings.

"Are you a Maechen, capable of black magic to a third degree?" replied the man, who the scholar now recognised as a recruitment officer for the army.

"My dear boy, that record of my skills was recorded decades ago, I'd be hard pressed to cast first degree, so you'd have great difficulty getting me to cast third degree. But otherwise, yes I am the Maechen you seek."

"I have orders to escort you to the enlistment centre, the blitzball stadium sir."

"Of course you do, but may I be as bold as to ask you to check my records, you'll also see that beside my name and area of expertise, I have a dispensation that makes me immune to enlistment, so I bide you farewell. I have a lot of work to do."

"Unfortunately sir, all dispensations for age and profession have been removed, and that includes you sir."

Maechen's heart missed a few beats at hearing this news. He was effectively dead if he joined the army. There were rumours that Bevelle's forces outnumbered Zanarkand's own five hundred to one, and Maechen was wise enough to understand that those odd were not in his favour.

"Oh…uh…. oh my. My life's work, my spheres, my learning, all gone. My life, meaningless then is it?" he asked the officer who just stood there, even though anyone who just glanced at him could tell that he hated his job at times like this. "Very well, may I ask that we return to my home first, there are a number of items I want to pick up before I lose my freedom?"

"Of course sir, the teleport pad is right over here," said the officer as he escorted Maechen to the pad, "just enter your address."

"I am familiar with how to use it…"

* * *

Once they had teleported onto Maechen's street, the old scholar quickly led the way to his home and entered. 

"In the other room is a staff," said Maechen as he pointed towards his lounge area, "could you please get it for me. Please be careful though, it was my grandfathers, and it is buried deep beneath a pile of blank spheres."

The officer quietly agreed and left Maechen alone in the hallway. He quietly travelled to his sleeping quarters and approached a glass cabinet full of his most prized spheres. To the left, the old one of the blitzball match, next to that, the day he was twelve and set fire to the neighbours dingo after only a few lesson in the Black Mage arts. To the right there was the recording of him graduating from university, a fully qualified historian, and next to that was the sphere of the construction of the blitzball stadium over two decades ago. But on its own shelf was the sphere of the day he met Lenne. He decided to take that one, out of all the memories preserved here.

Just as he placed the sphere in his cloak, he heard an almighty crash from the lounge area, and chuckled somewhat as he proceeded to the hallway to meet up with his escort and saw that he had sustained a few bumps and bruises during the retrieval of the staff.

"I do apologise for putting you through that, it's just my old bones you see…?"

"Of course sir. Do you have everything you wanted before we left?"

"Why yes, I believe I do. Come let us journey to the stadium and on the way, would you like to here a story?"

"I don't think that there'll be time for a story sir, I must drop you off at the stadium and then I have to go retrieve the others who are on my list."

"Hmm… pity," replied Maechen as they approached the teleport pad.

* * *

"Come on, play blitz with me!" cried Eidola to her brother Keb. 

"Not now sis, I'm busy," he replied, pointing to his sphere console on his desk that showed some advanced maths that he had been given as homework.

"What's so important that you won't play with me?" whined Eidola

Keb had been listening to his younger sister complain for over an hour, and this was the third time this question had arose.

"Because, like I said an hour ago, and half an hour ago, I'm doing grown up stuff that you wouldn't understand."

"Why won't I understand?" despite the fact that she did want to play blitzball when she started pestering Keb, now, she was just having fun making life difficult for him.

"Because you're too young Eido, now go away!" It was at this point that the conversation differed from the previous incarnations.

"I'm not too young," yelled Eidola, "I'm only ten years younger than you!"

"You're six, and that makes you way too young to understand what I'm doing."

"Prove it! If I'm too young to understand, prove it!"

"Okay," replied Keb, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile on his lips. "Describe to me how we can control water to make the great monuments in the central plaza."

"I can't," moaned Eidola, who was by now on the verge of tears. This had so quickly turned against her.

"Alright then, how about an easier task, call the Knights."

The Knights, or Knights of the Round as they were officially known as, were the family's aeon. Centuries ago, Zanarkand's army was mostly warriors with a few mages, but then the power of the fayth was discovered, beginning with the aeon Alexander. In the years that followed, summoners slowly replaced the warriors, Keb's ancestors, thirteen warriors in the dying caste, decided to turn their family away from the blade and onto the summoner's arts. However, they also felt that the public fayth were inferior to the power that all thirteen held as mere men. So one day, the family elder, a man named Nanaki, and twelve of his brothers, sons and nephews, chose to make an aeon that would combine their power. They travelled to the Fayth Palace, when there were only a mere dozen fayth in place, and opened their hearts and minds to crystal that was to be the heart of their statue. As their bodies turned to stone, and their thoughts entered the eternal sleep that accompanied the completion of the Fayth Ritual, their souls became forever trapped in stone. Thirteen silent monoliths, not quite dead, but not quite living, forming the largest fayth statue ever created, the largest single collection of aeons. To this day, they were one of the most potent summons in battle, and even one of the High Summoners favourites, an impressive feat considering he can call all the aeons stored in the Palaces great depths.

They were also quite taxing on the summoner, causing Keb's family to insist that should a family member want to be a summoner, they should be of the Age of Maturity before they can start praying for the Knights.

"You know I can't," an age that Keb had reached, but Eidola had not.

"Then your obviously too young then aren't."

"Meanie," she cried before running off.

"Hmph," chuckled Keb as he returned to his work.

* * *

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Keb's mother, Elan, answered. 

"Is this the residence of Arat and Keb, both summoners?" asked a burly looking soldier who was looking at a sphere pad in his hand.

"Yes, and what do you want with them?" replied Elan.

"They are to be enlisted, ma'am."

"But…" she began.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid all dispensations have been revoked."

"But…Keb…. He's only a boy. What use is he to the war?"

"He can summon, therefore, he can fight. That is all that is required of him."

"And what of my husband, is that all that is required of him. He has a family to look after. My son has his whole life ahead of him, why are you doing this to us?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I have orders," replied the officer, "do you mind if I come in while we wait for your husband to arrive."

"Ha, you'll be waiting a long time," barked Elan as she let the soldier enter, "he doesn't usually get home 'til midnight, and it looks like that's a couple hours away."

"We have an officer gathering recruits from the foundry, sending them home if they have family to leave or belongings to collect," said the soldier as he unzipped the thick black jacket over his grey uniform.

"Oh… er…. I think that I'll go get my children."

"That would be helpful ma'am, I can't spend too long here."

"Sure…" she replied as she walked down the broad hallway towards Keb's room.

"Hi Mom, whose that at the door," Keb asked brightly, but whose cheerful exterior soon fell apart when he saw the look on his mothers face. "What's wrong mom?"

"Er… Keb… there's a man in the lounge that would… er …like to speak with you. Can you please go see him?"

"Okay, is that what's bothering you?" he asked as he rose from his desk and approached his mother. Now he was closer, he could see that her usually green eyes were close to tears."

"You'll see, I gotta go get your sister now," she said, as she turned away from Keb, no longer able to hold back the tears that were now flowing.

Upon entering the lounge, Keb could see why his mother was so upset. A tall soldier stood in the middle of the room, who was now speaking to another man, Keb's father who had come home far to early.

Spotting his son, Arat ran over to his son and hugged him, whispering, "I'm sorry son" in his ear.

"Ah excellent, the whole families here now," said the guard as a now red eyed Elan carried in Eidola, who looked deeply unsettled by the scene in the lounge, and for good reason too.

"What's going on here?" asked Keb as his father let go of him.

"Due the enlistment act brought in ten years ago, and dispensation removal that began today, I have been given orders to take every able bodied man woman and child who can fight to the blitzball stadium to be enlisted into the army.

"Arat, Keb. According to the registry, you two are both summoners, is that correct?"

"Yes it is," both Keb and his father answered.

"Very well, you are to gather what possessions you deem necessary and will accompany me to the blitzball stadium"

"Fine," said Arat, "come on son, I've got something I want to give you."

"Okay…" Keb followed his father to the back of the house where, out of a little closet in the outer wall, Arat withdrew a large blade. This was however no ordinary blade. Near the handle Keb noticed there was a trigger. "Is this…?"

"Yes it is," replied Arat as he lifted the weapon out of its concealment, "Its been passed down for generations. Nanaki gave it to his grandson shortly before the ritual, who passed it to his son, who passed it to his son, and so on until I passed it down to you."

"But, I can't, I've never learnt how to use a gunblade," gasped Keb.

"You don't need to. As long as you can cal the Knights, Nanaki's skill and talents will be present in you to, and me, and all others who can call them. It's a gift; do not squander it, as with this blade, the Knights will give you strength to fight."

"What about you, don't you have any weapon?" asked Keb.

"Who needs a weapon when I've got the knights, besides, they're bound to issue us with something if we don't bring our own weapons. Take it."

Keb grasped the handle of the blade and he could feel its strength within him. He could hear the Knights within his own mind more strongly now as well. He thought he could even see the wizened form of Nanaki smiling down at him.

"Come son, we need to say goodbye to your mother and sister," beamed Arat.

"Okay dad."

Once they had returned to the lounge area, the guard asked, "have you everything you need?"

"Almost," replied Arat as he walked over to his wife to say good-bye.

Eidola, who once again looked on the verge of tears, walked over to her brother, but it seemed as though words had failed her.

"Don't worry sis. I'll be back soon, I promise," he lied. Despite his youth, he knew the dangers of a battlefield, another gift from the Knights. "When I get back, I'll play blitz with you."

"Don't go Keb," she managed to say through the tears that now rolled down her face.

"I have to sis," was all he said as he and Arat followed the officer to the local teleporter and onto the stadium.


	4. Chapter 4

"Sir, everyone's here," said a lieutenant from behind Azin, who was currently circling the perimeter of the now drained blitz sphere. At its centre was a small podium with supports branching out to the circle where the players stood before a match, and currently where Azin was standing.

"Thank you lieutenant" he said as he dismissed the soldier and made his way to the podium.

As he arrived, a deadly hush erupted from the cacophony that had been prevalent in the stands mere moments before.

"Firstly, I would like to thank you all for co-operating with us over the last few hours," he began, his voice being amplified through a series of speakers that lined the dome.

"Secondly, I would like to apologise for effectively ruining your lives. I'm aware that many of you are young, barely at the Age of Maturity, and there are those slightly older, but still, haven't grown to the Age of Independence, and to you I am especially grateful. You have put such a long future on hold to help protect your home. Thank you.

"Yet there are also the old present here today. Those who have lived their lives and now live for the simple pleasures of their hobbies, bladders willing of course." A slight chuckle emerged from the crowd at that last comment. "You are the people who know what Zanarkand is, you have made our home into the place we see today, and you know what is worth fighting for. I must also thank you.

"And finally there's the rest of you," after pausing to let a sudden wave of both pride and sorrow pass, he continued. "You have kept the city working for years, you make up the workforce we have come to depend on in these tragic times, and you raise the families that will preserve Zanarkand for future years, but now I must ask that you too give up your duties to preserve Zanarkand for today."

Pausing once again to survey his new recruits, he couldn't help but think that this rag tag bunch of people, none of whom showed any form of discipline, was the best damned army he had ever mustered.

"I speak to you today, not as your commanding officer, but as just another citizen of Zanarkand.

"And like any other citizen, I'm scared. We have lost many recent campaigns, we're constantly on the defensive, and I fear that we don't have long left. That is why you're all here.

"As any person would, we want to defend our home, and you are able to defend your home. Many of you can summon, and while we understand that an Aeon can only be called by one summoner at a time, we know you also have other skills, just like the other warriors and mages gathered here.

"Unfortunately though, I must get to the point," said Azin as he signalled a nearby soldier to begin playing the recording the High Summoner had showed him earlier on the giant sphere screen that was usually used for more joyous scenes. As the recording began, a murmur quickly spread across the crowd, but it quickly died as Azin returned to the podium.

"As you can see, Bevelle has amassed a quite significantly sized machina force on the Electric Fields. We believe this is in preparation for a large-scale attack on our home. We have been ordered to go to the Peak Facility on Gagazet, and to wait there for them to begin moving. Once they do, we will move to engage them on the Northern Grasslands.

"Within any luck, we should arrive there at about the same time, and will destroy them before they reach Gagazet, before they reach Zanarkand. I have faith in each and every one of you, as does the High Summoner.

"Tomorrow morning, you will meet our veteran soldiers, and together, we will march to the Peak. We will march with pride and confidence and hope, for that is what it means to be a citizen of Zanarkand, and that is what it means to have heart, a concept Bevelle will never know. That is why when we fight them we will win. We will end this war, and Zanarkand will live on forever!" finished Azin to a tremendous roar of approval from his new army.

Pleased by the effect his speech had on them, he withdrew from the podium and retreated into the stadiums innards.


	5. Chapter 5

"That Lord Azin sure knows how to rouse a rabble," said Maechen to a kid walking next to him. A kid carrying a large blade and who looked very worried about something. "My dear boy, are you okay?"

"No I'm not," replied the kid in a somewhat panicked voice, "I've lost my father. We were put into different units just after the lords speech, and I haven't been able to find him since"

"Oh my," commented Maechen. "What units were you put into?"

"I'm in Dragoon, and my fathers in Paladin."

"Well, I suggest you calm down young man. From what I've heard from some officers earlier, our unit and the Paladin unit will be working quite closely once we're on Gagazet's snowy slopes."

"So you're in Dragoon too?" asked the boy who sounded significantly calmer now.

"Yes, I am. It seems you young whippersnappers will have to put up with an old man for a while yet." Stopping so that he could face the boy, Maechen offered a hand to he lad. "Let me introduce myself, I am Maechen, a black mage who hasn't spent a magic point in years."

"I'm Keb, a summoner of the Knights of the Round who can apparently wield a gunblade," he replied, smiling as he shook Maechen's hand before resuming their quick pace.

"A pleasure to meet you Keb. Come, I believe they told us to go there," said Maechen as he directed Keb towards the units' barracks.

* * *

It had been a long day for Keb, school during the light hours, then conscription in the dark, and yet, even though I was now an hour or so past midnight, he could not sleep. He wasn't the only one either. All around him, people were up, playing board games, polishing their already polished weapons. He guessed that they were all just nervous about the mornings task, but even Keb knew that climbing Mount Gagazet was not a job to do when half asleep.

After trying to get some shuteye for another half hour, he gave up. He had questions whose answers he didn't like, but he felt he knew who could either confirm or deny his fears.

Due to Maechen's age, the unit commander had given him, and all the other combatants his age semi private rooms. Since Keb and Maechen had been up for a while after arriving at the barracks, Keb knew where he could find him.

Quietly getting out of bed so as not to wake those who had managed to fall asleep, he padded across the large room that held fifty beds bolted into the walls and gently opened the door to the corridor and made his way to his destination.

After gently knocking on the door, Keb entered the cramped room that was full with just two beds.

"My dear boy, do you realise what time it is," said Maechen as he stirred. Returning this glasses to the bridge of his nose from the pull down shelf that was the only thing on the walls in here, he continued, "I was having the most wonderful dream."

"Sorry Maechen, but I need to talk to you about something," he said softly, trying not to wake Maechen's roommate.

"Very well," said Maechen as he got out of his bed, "we may as well take outside so no-one can overhear."

Once outside, they found a nearby bench next to one of the water statues that dotted the city,

"So what is so urgent that you would wake an old man from his beauty sleep?" joked Maechen.

Keb was slow in answering. "Do you think we'll survive this war?"

"Oh my," Maechen had not anticipated such a direct question. "That would depend," was his eventual response.

"On what?"

"Whether I feel you can handle the truth, or would prefer false hope," looking into Keb's eyes, Maechen thought he saw fear, but also an understanding of what was really going on. "But it seems to me that you already know the truth, and are simply looking for false hope." Even though it was cold enough to make anyone as pale as a ghost, Maechen thought he saw Keb's face lose a bit more colour when he said this.

"Unfortunately, I cannot, or will not, give you that false hope."

"Okay."

"Despite that, I feel that I need to confess something to you," without waiting for a reply form Keb, Maechen continued. "I fear that should I die on the battle field, I will never be able to accept my death. This concerns me much more than the fact that I might die."

"Why?"

"Have you not heard of what happens to those who refuse deaths embrace?" Keb's shake of his head was all that told him so.

"They are cursed, much like the fayth, to exist forever, neither completely alive or wholly dead. Some even grow to hate the living and become fiends, others, while never accepting their death, accept their fate and become ghosts, or unsent, trying to find a quite… life… in Spira.

"For the unsent however, there is hope, or at least there was. Long ago, a High Summoner by the name of Tenji created a ritual known as the sending, hence the term unsent. But the tradition of sending the dead has long since died from our traditions, for very few people die fearing death so it has not been needed for many decades.

"Bevelle however, on a clear morning you can see up to twenty senders on the coasts of Bevelle sending their dead. It is viewed by many as a sign that Bevelle's citizens are evil, greedy people who are unwilling to leave their meagre possessions behind when they die. It is stuff like this that has helped fuel the rising tensions, and the Machina War between our two cities.

"Tell me Keb, should you die in battle, would you accept it?

Taken slightly aback by Maechen's question, Keb hesitated before answering. "Yes, I think so," he replied at last.

"Hmm, so young with so much life ahead of you, and yet ready to die."

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Keb finally said, "Maechen, why are we at war with Bevelle anyway?"

"Dear boy, smarter men than I have tried to answer that," chuckled Maechen, even though the memory of the first victims of the war still made his heart sad. "I guess it all boils down to jealousy.

"Bevelle and Zanarkand are the two most advanced cities on Spira, yet neither was happy to be joint 'Top Dog' you might say.

"And thus was born an arms race between the two. Zanarkand had always kept the upper hand throughout the centuries of this contest. We learnt to control water in a way never before seen, he said as he gestured to the nearby fluid statues. "We created blitzball, an act that Bevelle could never forgive us for, and that was over three hundred years ago.

"We had the best technology, the greater culture, and then we did something very unexpected to Bevelle. We combined the two to make the first Aeon. With crystal off Gagazet's slope, or dug from the canyons south of Armenal, and various pieces of machina, we created Alexander. This also happens to explain why the first aeons have a somewhat mechanical appearance. Once we refined the technique to remove the need for machina, and like we have always done with any new advance, we shared it with all of Spira. Even Bevelle.

"But Bevelle was never happy picking up what we gave them, and so they strictly limited the use of our 'gifts' that did not improve the cities ability to keep up, such as blitzball." The rest of Spira however, loved us for our generosity. We made Luca famous for being able to stage blitzball games on a scale that rivalled our own. Our water technology allowed Bikanel to flourish even though it was in the middle of a desert, and Armenal was able to submerge during heavy storm periods but could keep the wide open spaces that made their city a popular holiday spot for the force that holds water in these shapes," pointing again to the nearby water statues, "can also keep water out as well."

"We was basking in the glory we had attained, but Bevelle was a constant reminder to stay alert.

"Then, twenty years ago, during a field test of a new machina teleporter in the valleys of Macalania, the scientists were ambushed by Bevelle's army.

"Forty machina and two humans. The twelve scientists didn't stand a chance," pausing while the words choked up in his throat. Keb could see that this was hurting the old man, and was just about tell Maechen to forget it when Maechen said, "I lost my wife that day. The only woman I ever loved, but now I don't even have a sphere of her to remember her by. I often hope that she accepted her death and that it is not her that I kill when I am attacked by a fiend, but I can never be sure."

"Hmm…anyway," continued Maechen after slightly regaining his composure, "our army, as you may have guessed by now, our army is mostly human, we have very few combat machinas other than the units used to defend city from fiends. Bevelle on the other hand fights almost entirely with machina.

"Many years before the war broke out, we had seen Bevelle's factories increasing their production output. We assumed that it was just another attempt to outdo us in airship construction. Little did we realise that a change in leadership in Bevelle had recently occurred, and the new leader, aptly named St Bevelle, was not as peaceful as his predecessors. It turned out that St Bevelle had had his fill of Zanarkand's supremacy and was planning to wipe us out, and the factories we had assumed that were building airships, were in fact building thousands of machina units.

"Within a month of the ambush, Bevelle's machina could be seen marching down the slopes of Gagazet, being led by one of the few humans in their army. They apparently ignored the Peak Facility as they crossed the mountain, and were approaching the city. We were able to hold them off that time, but at a great cost, and so the war was born."

"I'm sorry about you're wife Maechen," offered Keb when Maechen had finished.

"There is no need for you to apologise Summoner Keb, you didn't kill her did you? Now I suggest we go back inside and try to get what sleep we can before morning, unless you have anything else you would like to ask?"

"Sure lets go. It's getting cold out here anyway."

"This is nothing compared to Gagazet," chuckled Maechen as they returned to their respective sleeping areas, both able to sleep soundly now.


	6. Chapter 6

It had only been twelve hours since he had been ordered to gather his troops and Azin was impressed at the fact that they were now marching up the slopes of Mount Gagazet.

Yet he was deeply disturbed by something. The mountain was much quieter than it had been the last time he was here, the air was still and the snow had stopped falling.

"Sir," whispered Sen from behind him.

"I know Second Lord," responded Azin as he saw shadows moving in the distance. He gestured to two nearby summoners who could call aerial aeons to come to him.

"Call your aeons," he whispered briefly as he brought the mass of people to a halt. "Tell them to circle the area and report what they see."

"Yes sir," said the two, as their aeons appeared, one from the clouds, the other from the sea in the distance.

As the summoners instructed the aeons in their task, Azin saw more shadows, nearby this time, but their creator still hidden.

Out of nowhere came a bronze dash, impaling one of the summoners, whose aeon suddenly shattered into pyreflies, signalling the death of the summoner now lying face up in the mud with the bronze handle of the spear protruding from his chest.

"DOWN!" yelled Azin to those nearby, hoping that those further back would follow their lead.

"Hiding on ground not save summoners of Zanarkand," growled a voice from behind a boulder to Azin's left.

"Ronso," realised Sen as he reached for the claw on his waist.

Reaching the same conclusion, Azin stood back up. "Show yourself Ronso," he called, "or have you no horn?"

A giant blue figure emerged from behind the boulder, a figure that was twice as tall as Azin. He recognised the garb worn by the Ronso, even tough he did not recognise the beast himself.

"Where is your Elder? He asked, hoping he was wrong about the Ronso who now stood before him, but at the appearance of a smile on the beasts' snout, all hopes Azin had were dashed.

"Elder standing in front of you."

"What happened to Elder Cask?" asked Azin, realising that his job just got harder,

"Mountain kill former Elder. Many Ronso believe allowing summoners and machina to cross Gagazet is desecrating Holy Mountain, but Cask believed otherwise. For years, since war began, army after army cross mountain. For Years, Cask stopped removal of the unworthy.

"But now Mountain agree with Ronso. Cask was no true Elder. A true Elder would not freeze to death on mountain slopes. Mountain kill false Elder and now I, Tenke, am Ronso Elder," as he said this, the remaining Ronso emerged from concealment and Azin realised the true depth of his problem.

"Mountain not permit those who fight without own strength or own heart to pass. Mountain hate summoners and machina and wants neither on its slopes, and Ronso do as mountain wants," finished Tenke as he brought his gold spear to bear

"If you kill us here, you will have to destroy Bevelle's forces as well," reasoned Azin. "Let us pass, we won't stay for long at the Peak and we'll be off the mountain in a week."

"No, we kill your summoners and destroy your machina weapons now, then kill and destroy the unworthy that approach from the south."

Making a subtle gesture for his troops to ready their arms, Azin replied, "Then let us prove our worth. Let us fight and prove to you and your mountain that we are worthy."

"We fight you yes, but there is no redemption for desecrating mountain."

Unsheathing his blade, Azin said, "Then we have no choice but to defend ourselves."

* * *

"Maechen, what's happening?" cried Keb as he reached for the gunblade on his waist.

Reaching for his staff, Maechen replied, "I do not know, Keb. I always thought the Ronso were indifferent to the war. I hope you know how to use that."

"So do I."

The pair was still quite a distance inside their group, but the battle was quickly approaching them as those in front scattered or died.

* * *

All around was chaos. Arat, after losing his son and being forced to use a standard blade was feeling quite anxious as Ronso dug into his group.

Yet he could still call the Knights should he need to, but doing so would deprive his son of the ability to do so. Nanaki assured him Keb was okay and that he could still help the father fight with the blade.

But giving Arat the skill to use the blade was not enough to help Arat survive today, a lesson he soon learnt as he froze with fear as a giant blue figure came towards him, spear ready.

Unable to move, even with the strength provided by the Knights, he wished Nanaki to take care of his son before he was no longer able to wish for anything.

* * *

_Goodbye Son_

"What," asked Keb. The front line had nearly reached him and Maechen and now Nanaki was sending cryptic messages to Keb.

As he realised its meaning, the front line reached them, yet he fell to the floor without even a blow, and was only saved in time by a thundaga spell from Maechen that killed a Ronso that was about to cut Keb in half.

"My dear boy," called Maechen as he drowned two more Ronso. "I suggest you get up."

"My Dad," he said as he rose to his feet. "He's dead"

Feeling anger and pain from deep within him, and from Nanaki himself, he swung for and killed the nearest Ronso.

He had decimated half a dozen more Ronso before he stopped. Maechen was about to ask why in between spells, but it soon became clear.

Thirteen tiny orbs of light burst out of Keb. Each one grew and took on form. The objects surrounded Keb, Maechen and anyone nearby. As the light condensed, Keb could Sense Nanaki's joy at being able to wake, even momentarily.

The Ronso, having seen the aeon's formation converged on Keb position. The light had completely faded by now and the true horror of their appearance could now be seen.

Thirteen hooded figure, dressed in ancient battle armour stood in a loose circle with Keb as its centre. Nanaki drew his gunblade. Another raised his fists, only they weren't fists. Where its skeletal hand should have begun, a bony claw was all that was present. Another had a tail that ended in an incredibly sharp scythe that was now curling around the aeon's head, waiting for a target to get within range, while another had an extra set of arms, whose hands were nothing but sharp, spiky, bony maces.

The horrific warriors readied their weapons for the coming onslaught.

* * *

"Sir, is that the Knights of the Round?" asked Sen from behind Azin, satisfied that the last of the Ronso they had been fighting had gone to aid his brothers against the aeon.

"Yes it is," replied Azin as he turned to face down the slope to view the battlefield. "Such a magnificent aeon, yet the only one present. Why?" concern had drifted into Azin's voice.

"Maybe if you call Atamos, or Alexander, the other summoners might call their aeons," suggested Sen.

"Hmm, perhaps you're right," said Azin as he closed his eyes and called forth the first, Alexander.

As the ground started shaking, the sun was eclipsed. Both Ronso and human stood to see what was happening as the great aeon Alexander descended from the sky. Its giant white wings unfurled and its machina body hissed. At its core was the man who became the first fayth, if only as an impression in the metallic body of the aeon.

At seeing the first descend, many summoners brought their aeons to join the fray.

"It seems as though you was right Lord S—"began Azin before a golden blade suddenly tore out of his chest, the shock of which caused Sen to stumble back a few paces.

"You show cowardice by summoning monstrosity, yet you show back to me," said the voice of Tenke Ronso from behind Azin. "That was not wise."

Turing to face his mentors' attacker, Sen just stood speechless.

"RONSO, WITHDRAW," bellowed Tenke before turning to face Sen, "you desecrate Mount Gagazet further with your aeons. We shall let Gagazet itself kill you all." As he finished his threat, he removed the spear from the nearly dead Azin and stalked off.

Still in shock at what just happened, Sen hesitated before eventually running to Azin.

"Sir, sir. Stay with me sir," he said as he tried to keep Azin conscious.

"HEALER," he called, but none were nearby.

"Don't worry Sen," said Azin weakly, "I'm ready."

"Sir, no, please don't go," sobbed Sen.

"Take them, go to the Peak. Follow Yevon's orders. They're your orders now." Trying to indicate the crowd on the slope, Azin continued, " and they're your army Sen. Take care of them.

"You're our last hope of victory, First Lord of the Armies…of …Zanarkand."

That last breath was shortly followed by the sound of Alexander breaking down into pyreflies.

Sen stood up, leaving Azin's lifeless body on the cold dirt and walked into the crowd. Here he saw the dead and the dying, the men and the women, the young and the old. He was now responsible for all of them, and he had no idea where to begin.

"We have just lost a great man," he thought was a good start as he spoke to those nearby. " In fact, we have lost many great men and women, but we have not lost our purpose. We shall reach the Peak, and then we shall proceed to the Northern Grasslands. There we shall defend our home!

"But first we must give the friends we have lost a decent burial."


	7. Chapter 7

In his office, Yu Yevon could hear the trouble on Gagazet's slope. Days earlier, he heard something similar on the Peak Facility, but unsure of what it meant, he forgot it, until now. Through the fayth he heard the battle rage. He heard Quezacotl's shock at the death of her summoner, the farewell message from father to son through the knights, and their joy at being called by the boy. He heard Azin's last moments through Alexander.

_Looks like the Second Lord may come to us yet Alexander_, he thought, before grimly adding, _had our city had a future in this form_.

Now, several hours later, he was deeply disturbed by a transmission from a new drone passing the Electric Fields, and was just waiting for a communication from the Peak Facility.

"At last," he muttered as a beeping began on his desk.

Upon accepting the signal, Yevon saw something quite distasteful behind the man in the foreground. Where there had been a wall covered in the treasures of the Peak's current administrators, there was rubble.

"What happened up there, First Lord?" he asked, seeing the man wince upon hearing his new title, and the confusion at how the High Summoner knew what had happened.

"We believe it was the Ronso sir," he said as he looked around as if he feared there was another blue beast behind him. "They ambushed us just before the caves sir, and it appears as though they're responsible for this as well."

"The Ronso, they've never wanted any part in our war, why should they side with Bevelle now?"

"And they still don't sir. They believe that Summoners and Machina are desecrating their mountain, and want none on its slopes. It just happens that we arrived first."

"How many were lost?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"Including the fifty people that remained here after the others returned to Zanarkand last week, about sixteen hundred, and, as you may have noticed, this place is in ruins. We cannot stay here for long sir, it may collapse on us any minute, and being here isn't good for the morale of the rest."

"You are somewhat fortunate then," said Yevon as he learned towards the screen, "three hours ago, a drone sweep of the Fields reported that no more units were gathering, and that they appeared to be shutting down all non locomotive systems. We view this as a sign that they are preparing to move out. We can assume that they're on their way now.

"You have four days to make it to the Grasslands, less than that since you must wait for the machina to arrive, but make your preparations now and leave as soon as they arrive."

"Yes sir."

"Good luck, First Lord Sen," he said as he terminated the link to the peak.

_Damned Ronso_, he thought as he rose from his desk and signalled Vararla to come to his chambers.

* * *

Minutes later, she arrived.

"We have a problem," he said before she spoke, "It appears as though the Ronso have turned on us."

"Sir?"

"Our army has recently been ambushed by them, and the Peak is in ruins. For all intents and purposes, the Ronso have aligned themselves with Bevelle. This will cause us great difficulties when the time comes. Of those that remain in the city, just fifty are able to fight. I had not anticipated this when I made this plan and now we stand on the brink of destruction. Something must be done about the Ronso."

"Sir, like you said, there are only fifty fighters left, how can they possibly help defend against the Ronso."

"Alone, they cannot. How many armed airships do we have?"

"One, and its loading the machina to take to the Peak."

"Hmm, do you know why we don't use machina in battles, other than the rifles?" asked Yevon as he stood facing the city view behind his desk, his breath misting on the glass.

"No."

"Terribly destructive creations they are. There are rumours that a great machina weapon, over a millennia ago that could turn pure water into destructive energy, made the Electric Fields into the deadly region they are today. Other rumours blame ancient machina for the desert on Bikanel. While I never put much credence to these rumours, they are a concern to me, and as such, I've never authorised the use of machina weaponry on such a scale. But now I think I must.

"When you leave here today, proceed to the airship hanger and tell them to wait for me," he decided as he returned to his chair.

"Understood," replied Vararla as she turned to leave.

"You have not been dismissed yet Minister."

Stopping dead, she turned to face Yevon. "My apologies my Lord. I take it there is something else you would like to discuss with me."

"Yes, there is. Are my people ready?"

"We believe so, although not many understand why they should do as we suggest."

"That's okay, they'll understand when the time comes, which, now that Bevelle has begun their approach, should be no more than four days away.

"I feel that it is only fair to warn you, I may not be able to control it for long. You must get as many people you can to the crystal slopes as quickly as possible. The army just made it to the Peak in a little over ten hours, getting the remaining citizens to the slopes should not take that long, especially if they're running for their lives.

"I understand sir, and what of the Ronso problem?" she replied.

"Do not concern yourself with that." Seeing Vararla accept his statement, Yevon added, "now you may go. Tell them I'll be there in ten minutes."

Nodding, she left Yu Yevon alone in his chamber.

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, he decided he could not wait any longer. He wanted his task to be done with as soon as possible.

_Goodbye my friends, and thank you_, was his silent farewell to the fayth.

* * *

"Mommy," crowed Eidola, what did that woman want who visited earlier?"

Still distraught over losing her husband and son to the army last night, she tried her best to put on a brave face for the child.

"Wha…" was all she could say though.

"That woman who came an hour ago, what did she want?" repeated Eidola

Twisting in her chair so that she could face her daughter, Elan said, "I don't really know Eido. I think she was just telling us that if we're attacked by the sea, we should flee up to Gagazet to the slopes just after the caves."

"Why would the sea attack us?" asked the confused child.

"Hmm," chuckled Elan. "I don't know honey. Perhaps it wants our monuments for itself," she joked, even though the point troubled her also. Bevelle had never attacked by sea, or even by air. Only ever by land. They didn't even have a navy, so why was the Fayth Palace warning people about this prospect?"


	8. Chapter 8

Maechen had not yet been able to wake Keb after he collapsed during the battle on Gagazet's slope.

"It appears that calling the knights does take a lot out of you," he mumbled to himself. "Where's that damn healer?"

Spotting a soldier walking towards him with a white hooded cloak beneath his grey combat uniform, he said, "About time," letting his consternation show.

"I'm sorry sir," said the healer as he began to cast scan on Keb, "but I've been busy."

"Fine," Maechen didn't argue the point further, not now that since they arrived at the Peak he could see the true scale of the healers work. In their section of the ruined outpost there were over a hundred wounded."

"The Ronso sure did a good job of destroying this place," muttered the healer as he finished casting scan on Keb. "There used to be a medical wing on that bridge up there," pointing to a series of twisted struts that normally would have spanned the distance between the central dome and a tower built on another outcropping of rock. Some movement behind Maechen brought his attention back to Keb and the healer, who was now casting float on the boy. "It appears as though your grandson is in a mild coma."

"And," urged Maechen, not bothering to correct the man about his relation to Keb.

"I will need to take him to the triage area in another section of this place where I'll be giving him some phoenix downs." Pushing Keb through the crowd, the healer continued, "I suggest you come find him in an hour."

"Fine," said Maechen as they disappeared into the crowd.

Completely at a loss at what to do, Maechen decided to walk around the dome area for a while. As he passed the occasional youth, he tried to reassure them that everything will work out, but the more he said it, the less he believed it himself.

Eventually, he reached the dome itself. After finding the entrance, he went inside. The dome was alleged to contain a sphere with all of Zanarkand's knowledge in it, but all Maechen found was an overturned stand and sphere fragments covering the floor.

"Oh no," he said to himself when he realised that the rumours were true, and were scattered around his ankles. He carefully righted the stand and picked up the fragments. He tried to reassemble the sphere, but there were too many pieces. The sphere was a write off.

At realising this, he sat there for a few minutes in the pale blue light, and then felt a weight in his pocket.

"Ah yes," he said as he stood and approached the pedestal in the centre of the room. "I fear that you may not survive for long with me," he whispered as he removed his prized sphere from his jacket, "but here, you may yet find rest for all eternity." Placing the sphere on the stand he said simply, "Goodbye sweet memories," before leaving the chamber on his way to find Keb.

* * *

Sen tried to muster a smile, but obviously failing, as he saw the airship approach; its roughly pyramidal shape easily slicing through the clouds, while its circular engine and many fans drove it forward.

"Airship to Peak Control," said a voice over Sen's radio, the first he had heard since putting it on last night.

"Airship, this is First Lord Sen," he replied, trying to show some confidence in his voice. "As I'm sure you're aware, Peak Control is no longer operational, you will have to deal with me for now."

"Understood First Lord."

"However, we have cleared an area large enough for you to offload your cargo, provided you remain in flight and make no attempt to land."

"Thank you sir. We're approaching the area now," said Sen's earpiece as the airship began a slow advance towards the only area on the ruins not covered by people or rubble.

As the cargo bay doors on the underneath opened, Sen heard, "Dropping cargo now," just before five hundred small machina units tumbled out of the ship.

Even though they had to conserve they're power usage, these machina were all online for this exercise. As they landed they moved in inhuman ways to try and dissipate the energy in their fall before moving out of the way of the others above them and lining up in formation. Once in position they deactivated themselves.

"That's it sir," said the voice again as the airships underbelly closed and it began to move off, "I hope they'll help."

"So do I," was Sen's response as the airship began to plough back through the cloud layer on its way back to Zanarkand. Turning to a technician on his left, he said, "how many will we have to activate to get them all down the mountain with minimal power usage?"

"About one hundred and twenty five sir."

"So for the length of the path down the mountain each active unit will have to carry three offline units? Will they be combat able when we reach the Mountain Gate?"

"Barely sir, but if we activate any more, we risk them all failing in the three days it'll take us to reach the Gate.

"Very well," stated Sen, "we leave when the wounded have all been treated, and I want the machina ready by then." Still not comfortable giving orders, he quickly thanked the tech before leaving him to his work.

* * *

"Ah, Keb," said Maechen as he found the boy wide-awake in the triage area of the ruins. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, I think," replied Keb. Looking around to see if there were any healers nearby, and finding none, he suggested that they, like the majority of the other people present, leave.

"So, is it true?" asked Maechen once they found a quiet spot in the ruins.

"What?"

"I am guessing that you're behaviour during the battle earlier was due to the loss of your father, although how you found out about it, I have no idea."

"Yeah, its true. My dad died during the battle. Nanaki, the Knights leader, told me."

"I'm sorry about your father Summoner Keb."

Seeing a crowd gathering on the other side of he ruins, Keb began to move, saying as he went, "there's no need to apologise Mage Maechen, you didn't kill him, did you?"

As Maechen followed Keb to the crowd, he spotted a figure appear on the top of a wall at the far end of the crowd.

"Oh dear," he said, "I fear our time has nearly come."

He was right.

They were beginning the march down to the Northern Grasslands.


	9. Chapter 9

Watching the uncertain new commander of his army through the large front window on the airships bridge, Yu Yevon almost felt sympathy for the man. But then he reminded himself that their coming deaths will serve Zanarkand in a way that they will never know.

As the airship finished its delivery to the facility and began its return to Zanarkand, he was somewhat reluctant to issue his next order.

_But it must be done_, he thought, _they cannot be allowed to stand in our way._

"You and you, stay," he said, pointing to the pilot and the gunner, "the rest of you, leave us."

As the rest of the bridge crew left the room, Yevon sealed all view ports on the ship except for the one on the bridge. He did not want the crew to see what was coming.

Speaking to the gunner, he ordered that four of the airships warheads be armed.

"Do you have a problem with that order?" he challenged as the man hesitated.

"No sir," he hurriedly said as he finally complied.

Now approaching the pilot, he asked, "Do you know where the Ronso settlement is on this mountain?"

"Yes sir," said the pilot, with an awful feeling of what was going to happen.

"Take us there, and stay within the cloud layer until we're within weapons range."

"Yes sir," he replied as the feeling came to fruition.

Addressing both of the men now, Yevon said, "When we arrive, I want you both off this bridge. What happens must be by my hand and my hand only."

"Yes sir," they replied in unison.

Returning to the window, he watched the clouds fly by. A perfectly white veil for the coming dark deed.

_So it has come to this_, he silently berated himself. _Destroying the home of an innocent, to preserve the home of my people_. _And to do it with machina, this is a dark day indeed. I would never do this to Bevelle, so why must it be done to the Ronso_? But the answer was beyond him.

As the clouds began to thin, he heard movement behind him and saw that the two men were leaving.

"We have arrived at the settlement sir," said the pilot as he passed Yevon on his way to the exit.

"Thank you," he said as the door closed, leaving him alone in the spacious control room.

Seeing that the autopilot was set to hover above the settlement, he went over to the weapons controls. His knowledge of machina weaponry was very limited, but he was quickly able to target four locations in the village, and set a timer for their launch.

Returning to the window, he could see a mass of Ronso gathering below him. He saw the Elder calling his people to arms, and a few of them even began targeting the airship with their enemy skill techniques.

None of it affected the airship, and as the thirty second timer approached zero, Yevon forced himself to watch the scene unfold below him

A sudden, but slight, shift in the floor told Yevon that the warheads had been launched. As the four smoke trails converged, then separated, the Ronso just stood watching. Never having seen a machina weapon of this type before, they did not know how to respond. Many ran beneath them in a futile effort to catch them. Those more intelligent, realising that this may be just the same as the machina rifles, ran for shelter.

But there was no shelter from this weapon.

A fiery inferno erupted in each corner of the village. Ronso were torn apart by the blast while those less fortunate suffered terrible burns along their fur. Their blood stained the land, but was quickly washed away as nearby snow melted in the heat.

It felt like an eternity to Yevon, but eventually, the fires died down and the dead found rest. He was thankful that Bevelle had never considered using such weaponry, and glad that he had never used it on them.

Seeing the survivors return, he failed to be shocked at how few there were. Out of this village that held many thousand, he guessed only twenty survived. He knew that there were many more Ronso scattered throughout the mountain range, a few hundred at least, but having destroyed their settlement, and killing their Elder, they would be busy for weeks, possibly months rebuilding their home. Only then would the Ronso seek vengeance on his people.

"But by then, you will be too late," he whispered. Walking to the pilot station he plotted a course to Vararla's excavation site, including a flyby of Zanarkand in its route. Once he was sure what was left of the settlement was out of sight of the ship, he summoned the bridge crew to return, and unsealed the ships many view ports.

As the people returned to their posts, Yevon returned to his window. Less than ten minutes ago, everyone here was both in awe and terrified at his presence. Now however, they were just terrified. He guessed that the gunner and pilot had told the other what he had asked of them, and in those short minutes, they had lost what lost what love they had for him.

Despite this, they stayed loyal to his orders. He could feel tears beginning to form in his old eyes, even though he felt their fearful eyes watching him.

As they flew over Zanarkand, he watched each part of the city fly past. The stadium and its magnificent dome. The docks and their impressive collection of ships. The Palace and the innumerable fayth stored within its walls. Each one was a stab in his already bleeding heart. Each one a temptation to abort his plan.

_NO!_ he thought, _I have come too far, done too much, to give up now. I must see this through to the end._

Not even a view of his childhood home, a place he hadn't visited for over half a century, a fact he now wanted to remedy, was enough to weaken his resolve.

Then there was the ocean. As the gentle water appeared beneath him, it receded from his eyes. Regaining his composure, Yevon turned to the pilot."

"How long until we arrive at the destination?" he asked.

"Two hours sir," he replied, not willing to make eye contact with the High Summoner.

"Excellent," said Yevon as he turned to leave, passing the large sphere that showed their location on Spira. "Inform me when we get there," he said, not waiting for a response as he left the room.

* * *

As requested, two hours later an officer, in fact the gunner he had earlier challenged, had arrived at Yevon's cabin to inform him of their arrival.

"Good," he replied as he allowed the man to lead him to the bridge.

Upon his arrival, the entire bridge crew stood at attention. Surprised by this show of loyalty, even after recent events that he was sure they was aware of, Yevon changed his mind about their next order.

"Loyal officers," he began, "at ease, there is no need to salute me.

"You have all served me and your countrymen well. I have asked of you many things, and you have never questioned them," glancing at the gunner who quickly turned his gaze to the floor, "I have brought us here for this is where I will leave you. I had intended to ask you to return home, and share the fate of our people. But recent events have forced me to reconsider your roles in Zanarkand's future.

"Therefore, I must ask you, no, order you, not to return home. You are to travel to Baaj city, and live out the rest of your lives in peace. Under no circumstances are you to return to Zanarkand." After looking at the shocked faces around him, he turned to the pilot. "This airship is now your, to do with as you please."

Without waiting for any questions that they no doubt had, he turned and left the bridge, and the airship. He ordered the sentries onto the ship and never looked back as he entered the cave, confident that even if his plan should fail, even if the remaining Ronso were able to stop his people, a part of Zanarkand might yet live on.

* * *

As he expected, when he entered the cave, it was too dark to see. In her report, Vararla had installed a lighting network, but he had ordered he to return long before the installation of the generator was complete. But Yevon did not fear the dark, and the occasional gathering of pyreflies in the cave illuminated his way, even if it was only temporarily.

He quickly found his way through the tunnels, occasionally glimpsing a fiend in a crevice, but he was not their target, they not his. As he approached a large crevasse in, an eerie glow could be seen coming from within it. He had found it.

Carefully climbing down the rock face as fast as his bones would allow, he was quickly surrounded by pyreflies. It was now that he had to be careful. Fiends were known to coalesce out of pyrefly clouds, and this abyss was full of them.

Once he had reached the bottom of the immensely wide gorge, he quickly asked the fayth to give him strength for the coming task, and began casting Gravaja.

From within the cave, and from all over Spira, pyreflies were being drawn to him. He thanked the Ronso who had died by his hand, as their souls would help in this undertaking.

One by one, the pyreflies, the souls of the dead, began to bond to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Sen felt fortunate that they had not been ambushed by any more Ronso in the last three days since leaving the Peak, but it appeared as though the mountain really did not want them on its slopes. While on the Peak, a massive tremor struck just as they were about to leave. A portion of the floor collapsed and sent over two hundred people to their deaths. Since leaving the Peak, another seventy had died from either frostbite or by simply losing their footing on the icy slopes, delivering them to the rocky ground hundreds of meters below. Rocky ground that they had just been forced to cross mere hours later, with many of those remaining growing nauseated at the sight of smashed, frozen bodies, of which several showed signs that a fiend had feasted on them, to reach their current location.

But now the Grasslands were in sight, and the ice was starting to give way to bare rock, which, Sen hoped would eventually yield to the grass of the plains.

Sen was however distracted from his musings about their destination by screams and shouts from further up the group. A band of Imps had descended from the shadows and were beginning to shock people with their spells. Fortunately, this had happened so often over the last few days that the nearest mages quickly cast reflect on those being targeted, while summoners called their aeons, which quickly dealt with the fiends. But at the end of each encounter, Sen always heard a most chilling word.

"HEALER!" was being shouted from the site of the attack, a shout that was ultimately pointless.

"How many is that now?" asked one of Sen's lieutenants who was taking point with him, and who had summoned one of the aeons that was now flying overhead for its third day, eagerly watching out for anymore Ronso ambushes, as the number killed this time reached them at the front.

"Too many lieutenant," he replied as he brought the group to a halt so that the death can be treated properly, while he thought, _eighty-nine people dead from fiends. Way too many…

* * *

_

"Keb, are you ready for this?" asked Maechen as they passed through the Mountain Gate, only an hour after they had begun moving again. Behind him, the remaining machina were being brought online, and in the far distance, Maechen could see the tall grasses and flat land of the Northern Grasslands, whose beauty was being blighted by the outpouring of Bevelle's machina army from a valley in the far side of the Grasslands.

"I hope so Maechen," Keb replied, "Nanaki promises me that he will try to protect me."

Chuckling at this statement, Maechen said, "Hmm, that's nice of him, but would you mind asking him to look out for me as well."

Now moving out onto the Grasslands themselves, the true enormity of their foe rang clear. Hundreds of thousands of machina units stood, or hovered patiently for instruction from the few humans present, in a long line, fifty deep, that stretched from one side of the plains to the other.

As Zanarkand's forces moved into formation, drone machina could be seen whizzing high above their heads, but there were far too many to bother shooting them down. The air suddenly became filled with song. A song of victory that use to be sung by all of Zanarkand during sporting competitions against teams from the other nations of Spira, but a song that now symbolised Zanarkand's defiance against Bevelle.

Sticking with Keb as they lined up, Maechen asked, "Are you still ready to die Summoner Keb?"

"You can never be ready to die, but you can be prepared to accept it should it come," he replied with words wiser than his age should allow. "And what of you Mage Maechen?"

"Alas, I fear that only time will tell, and that it will tell me that I cannot."

"TO ARMS," bellowed the voice of Sen from the centre of Zanarkand's five man deep front line, his usually quiet voice full of energy as he projected his voice of the song.

"You heard the man Maechen," said Keb as he drew his gunblade from his waist and discarded its sheath behind him. "Get your staff."

"Yes quite," said Maechen as he removed his staff from over his shoulder.

"CALL YOUR CHARGES," was the next order from the First Lord, an order that was quickly followed by the appearance of thousands of aeons.

"Keb, will you be alright?" asked Maechen as he looked at Keb's face glaze over momentarily.

"Yeah, its just Nanaki, he's trying to lessen the strain on me, but its only making things worse." As Keb finished his statement, colour returned to his face, and the Knights began to appear. "I think he understands now. I must fight this now, so I can fight them later."

"Just don't collapse again," suggested Maechen, but without the usual joviality that usually accompanied his speech.

"FORWARD!" called Sen who had himself called and aeon.

And so it began. About forty thousand people, and about four hundred machina, began marching across the grass, as hundreds of thousands of enemy machina, both big and small, began their own approach to the Armies of Zanarkand.

* * *

Again, chaos ruled supreme, but Sen tried not to let it faze him. His claw eagerly chewed through seven machina units, and he was half way through an eighth before he encountered a problem. The aeon Carbuncle that had been happily blasting machina was set upon by a viper machina. Its legs were quickly bound together and it began to fall, onto Sen.

Panicking and with no way out, Sen pressed himself low to the ground and hoped that the aeon didn't crush him. But just as the beasts silvery mane was scraping Sens neck, it disintegrated at the death of its summoner. Seizing its opportunity, a large YKT model machina drew its kicking leg back. Moving quickly, Sen swung with his claw and the thing collapsed onto the floor, its supporting leg now in half and leaking vital hydraulics. Unfortunately, Sen was still in the path of the thrust kick when it released, shattering all the bones in his left shoulder on impact.

Fighting the pain, he continued to slice through the nearby machina, occasionally asking Atamos for assistance when needed.

* * *

The Knights were doing a wonderful of destroying the enemy machina thought Maechen in between melting or freezing any machina that came near him.

And true to his word, the hooded figure that Maechen had learnt was Nanaki was looking out for Keb. He sheltered Keb with his giant shield when a YAT machina launched a canon volley at the boy, and left a crawler in ruins after it tried to blast Keb with its turret.

Overall, things were going quite well for them.

Then one of the Knights began attacking an Erazer unit, the largest, and most deadly unit, Maechen had seen on the field so far. The Knights mace had barely dented the brute before it was grabbed by the arms by a series of claws that had emerged from within its shell, and torn apart limb from limb to the echo of an otherworldly scream.

Next to Maechen, Keb collapsed in agony as the lost knights pain was fed down through the fayth to him. The death of one of their own also attracted the attention of the others.

As one, they beset the not so helpless machina, and three more met a similar end before they withdrew, unable to find a weakness in its armour. Maechen, now tasked with looking out for the unconscious Keb was soon outmatched by the nearby machina, and only the quick actions of Nanaki's ghostly gunblade saved them for now.

Apparently coming up with a plan, the remaining knights approached the machine. One split off from the group, using its blade like hands to pound on it until it gained its full attention. When this Knight had been caught, the others moved in, trying to hack off its arms, succeeding in some cases. But as the hapless knights was released from the grasp, dozens more arms emerged from within the metal carapace and within moments, two more knights had been torn apart.

As the Knights grew more and more distracted by the battle with the machina, they failed to notice a crawler approach from behind, and lost another of their kin to its weapons fire before they finally became aware of its presence. As the six remaining Knights struggled to fight the Erazer, they beseeched passing aeons to aid them. However, all had seen its capabilities and few were willing to face it. Their only ally in this fight was the aeon Ark, who shattered into a pyrefly cloud moments later.

In desperation, they surrounded the entity and began the crusades, a special attack unique to the knights, used only in times most dire. As Nanaki raised his blade into the air, golden energy began to flow out of it and into the remaining Knights. The power of this skill was greatly reduced by the loss of half their number, but the scene was still impressive.

As a golden ring formed around the Knights, any machina that breached its walls were immediately destroyed. As each Knight aimed their weapons at the target, the energy seemed to flow into their armaments until each was as bright as the sun.

The energy ring faded, and the weapons kept getting brighter. As the last wisps of energy dissipated, the Knights moved in on the Erazer. Maechen lost track of what happened next as he suddenly found himself face to face with another YAT, but the encounter soon mattered very little as there was a mammoth boom and Maechen's world became pure light. Seeing the YAT before him melt, even he had not yet begun casting any magic, and other machina nearby similarly disintegrate, he assumed this was the Knight's doing. He hoped that the enemy that they had been attacking for a while now had succumbed, but when he returned to face, his hopes had been dashed.

Even though there was a gigantic rend down one side of the machine, it was still operational. It tore into the remaining knights as if they were nothing more than playthings until only Nanaki was left.

Hearing movement behind him, Maechen turned, preparing a firaga spell for whatever machina awaited him, but found only Keb trying to right himself, using his gunblade as prop to support is slight weight.

A flash of movement caught Maechen's eye as he saw Nanaki charge on the Erazer, driving his blade deep into the gash down its side. At the sudden downpour of oil erupt from the wound; Maechen's heart was filled with relief. The machina now had mere minutes to live.

But Nanaki was not satisfied with that. He wanted vengeance for his kith, and moved in time and time again.

"No," said Keb's voice from behind Maechen as the monstrosity got a grip of the lone Knight.

But Keb was unaware of Nanaki's fate. Unknown to Maechen, one of Bevelle's few mages had approached them, and had cast a thundaga spell in Maechen's direction. Keb had thrown himself in the path of the spell, and was thrust into Maechen by blast.

Finally aware of the events behind him, Maechen watched blood pour from Keb's nose and mouth, as the shock fried his nerves and ruptured his veins. As the smell of burnt flesh reached Maechen's nostrils, the machina finally ripped Nanaki asunder, who let out inhuman scream as his ruined body, discarded gunblade, and the ghostly remnants of the other knights dispersed into pyreflies.

"Stand up mage," said a voice from behind Maechen. "I have no desire to kill a man on his knees."

"Yet you are perfectly willing to kill someone with his back turned to you," he said as he stood to face the man.

"You are old, you have no place on the battle field," reasoned the enemy soldier. "And neither do children," he added, indicating Keb's still smoking body.

"Do you enjoy killing the helpless," challenged Maechen as he dropped his staff.

"You have no idea," crowed the mage as he cast death on Maechen. "But I will make it as painless as possible for you. Goodbye Zanarkand scum."

_Well I guess I'll son find out whether I can accept my death_, thought Maechen as his world turned to darkness.

* * *

Aeons were shattering all around him. By now Sen had realised that today would not end in victory. There was just too many. For every one he smashed, there were ten more behind it.

He thought he might have a chance when the region became bathed in a golden light from what he knew to be the knights overdrive skill, but that hope faded as soon as he remembered that it only acted over a small area.

As he sliced another unit in half, a Zanarkand warrior ran past him, brushing his injured shoulder causing Sen to cry out in pain. As Sen saw the man stumble over the burnt corpse of a summoner and fall into the arms of a machina hunter, he was silently glad at the mans fate.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, he was ashamed of it. Azin saw more than that in him and he must at least try and fulfil the potential his mentor saw in him, not dwell on regrets.

Seeing a chance thinning in the enemy lines in front of him, Sen took it.

With Atamos by his side, he ran through the lines, slashing all those who got in his way. After emerging on the far side of the field, he saw the largest grouping of Bevelle's humans he had seen throughout the battle.

They were the operators to the machina he realised. While the machina were pretty autonomous, they still needed to be coordinated, and if he took these people out, perhaps it might severely weaken Bevelle's forces.

After sending Atamos down one side, Sen began his own flanking action. He ran at a breakneck speed towards the nearest operator, slicing anything that moved. As he got coated in a thin layer of grease from the failing machina he reached the first target.

Ignoring the pain in his left shoulder, he pulled he arm back. He wanted this bastard to feel the pain he had caused to countless other today. The operator just looked at him from behind his goggles, and suddenly, Sen was in the dirt.

He rolled over and tried to right himself, but found he was without his legs. A YAT was approaching him; canons still smoking, and Sen could only assume that it had come to finish him.

Quickly glancing over to Atamos, he was glad to se that the aeons was having more luck than he was, But by extension, Sens luck was Atamos' luck, and his luck was about to run out.

_I'm sorry Azin,_ he thought as the machina reached him, _I wasn't able to fulfil the potential you saw._


	11. Chapter 11

With his transformation nearly complete, Yu Yevon could feel the power he had created.

A tender structure his armour was not. He could barely contain its destructive impulses, and it took all his concentration to do this.

But concentration of this magnitude could not last forever.

From the silence that had consumed the fayth in his mind, he understood that the battle was over, and that his summoners had lost.

It was time to leave his cave, and complete his plan.

While still not fully formed, he had drained the cavern of all of its pyreflies. But he had anticipated this, and as he emerged from the spacious entrance tunnel, he could see thousands of pyreflies swarming in the distance.

_I thank you_, he thought as the souls of those who had died in the recent battle bonded with his shell. His armour was now complete, even though there was still many dead not joined to him, still roaming the battlefield, he let them go.

Releasing his grip on the creature he had spawned, he began to test its abilities. Providing enough influence to direct the entities attacks, he watched as it launched a massive volley of energy pulses at the cave entrance.

Quickly reasserting his control, he was awed by the ruined maw. Satisfied, he turned the shell around, and began approaching Zanarkand, ignoring the still tumbling rock that had been his home for the last few days.

He hadn't swum for many years, and under better circumstances, he might have enjoyed swimming through Spira's vast oceans. But enjoyment would cause his concentration to falter, and his control to slip. In truth, he could already feel the destructive power pushing against his restraints. While he knew he could hold on for a while yet, it was only a matter of time.

Within minutes, he could see Zanarkand's coast, and realised that he might yet have enough time.

* * *

"Minister Vararla," called a soldier over her earpiece from a listening post on the coast. "We have detected a large object moving towards the city. Its got no ID and its not slowing do—." The transmission ended abruptly in static.

"Right on time Yevon," she muttered as she made her way to the basement of the Fayth Palace, in which she found the defence control room.

Upon her arrival, she yelled, "Bevelle is attacking by the sea," startling a few technicians near the doors. "Begin the evacuation as ordered by the High Summoner."

Without waiting for her order to be acknowledged, she left the room to make her own way to the crystal slopes.

As she emerged from the Palace, she could hear the pre-recorded evacuation orders being played throughout the city, and could see the hordes of confused and scared people leaving their homes.

_I hope you took care of the Ronso,_ she silently asked, not expecting a reply, _cause whether they like it or not, we're coming up their mountain.

* * *

_

Yevon cursed himself for the loss of concentration that allowed his armour to destroy the coast defence post. But it got people moving at least, and gave him an opening to complete his plan, to let loose the being he had created.

"Mommy," cried Eidola as her mother pulled her through the city streets. "Mommy, you're hurting my arm."

Pausing just long enough to scoop the six year old in her arms. Elan continued to run to the city gate. Never stopping to help the fallen. Never apologising for knocking others to the ground.

She just ran, holding her daughter close to her. "I'm sorry baby."

As she ran past the Fayth Palace, she saw terribly bright bolts of energy tear into it. She didn't stop to see what was left of the great structure.

Soon she was on Gagazet's slopes, passing a series of graves. She was running too fast to read their names, but she hoped neither Arat of Keb were among them.

She just ran, and kept running. She feared Bevelle's machina for they had killed her brother many years ago, and she did not want to give them the chance to kill her too.

Exhausted by the time she reached the crystal slopes, all she could do was watch as people tried to escape their once grand city.

"Mommy, what's that," asked Eidola, pointing to the giant beast that was levelling the city with both energy blasts and its shear bulk.

"I don't know honey, but it doesn't look like Bevelle's machina to me."

* * *

Satisfied with the destruction and fear he had caused, Yevon tried to reassert control over his armour, but soon realised that any control he had was fleeting when the beast launched another volley at the stadium, further damaging its the dome.

But despite any issues about control, Yevon turned his attention to the survivors. Out of the ten thousand people that remained in the city, few than one thousand stood on Gagazet's crystal strewn rock face.

And that was all they were doing, standing there. Yevon hoped he hadn't killed the few that knew of his plan, or it would all have been in vain. If he had, he had destroyed all hope of an everlasting Zanarkand, just as he had witnessed the destruction of the real Zanarkand, and soon the rest of Spira.

He had to be sure that he hadn't killed those he believed in, he had to encourage someone to follow through, or all hope was gone.

* * *

Vararla, having arrived as one of the first stood to watch her ruler demolish what was left of their city. She looked down the slope and saw very few had made it up here.

Looking back to the city, she felt something was wrong. The beast that now carried Yevon had turned its many eyes towards her and the survivors, and had begun a slow approach to the mountain.

"Damn," she muttered as she realised her hesitation.

Struggling to climb the slope, she eventually found an outcrop of rock on the crystal that lined the slopes.

"Zanarkand may be gone," she called out to the crowd, hoping that she got their attention. "But we are not yet defeated. Not while we live.

"The High Summoner once spoke of a plan. Should a terrible disaster strike our great city, Zanarkand could live on." Pausing briefly to consider the phrasing of the next part, she continued, "The High Summoner is a powerful man. He has often done feats no one else would even consider. What he is asking of you now, is to preserve Zanarkand, by becoming Zanarkand."

Seeing the confusion in the people's faces, she elaborated further. "He is asking you to become the buildings, the people, the city itself." Adjusting her position on the crystal, she finished with, "Open your hearts and your minds to the Lord High Summoner. Climb the slopes, find bare crystal, dream." As she said this, Vararla could feel her body turning to stone.

With her last breath, she said, "and sing," before becoming the first fayth for he new summon.

* * *

"Sing? Sing what mommy?" asked Eidola as her mother carried her up the mountain.

"Listen," she replied as the air began to fill with song, "it means we will never be defeated."

"It's real pretty."

"Yes it is," said Elan as she found a patch of crystal. "Do you know what this is?

"No."

"It's crystal. It makes the core of all the fayth statues." Putting her daughter down so they could both hold on to the crystal, Elan asked, "Do you know what to do?"

"Think of home."

"Close enough," smiled Elan as her arms began to fuse to the rock. "Maybe this new Zanarkand may allow such innocence. Now sing Eidola," she said as the encroaching stone took her. Eidola however did not sing.

She had been focusing so hard on her home that she did not notice the lack of feeling developing in her hands. When she realised that she couldn't move, she screamed. She screamed out for her mother, but Elan was now dreaming.

The scream quickly died though as Eidola's lungs hardened and throat set in place as she too joined the fayth forming around Gagazet's peak to the gentle tune of the song.

* * *

_At last,_ thought Yu Yevon. Since the Fayth Palace was destroyed, his mind had been achingly empty, save for the gradually increasing urges of his armour. But now it was once again filled with the dreams of the fayth, and now it was he who was going to make their dreams a reality.

Relinquishing control to the armour, and satisfied that it would protect him for all eternity, he began the summoning.

He chose a location for his creation, called forth the buildings, the people. He summoned a Zanarkand that will never know war, pain, and sorrow.

A Zanarkand whose people will never need aeons.

A Zanarkand whose people will never know the true nature of their existence.


	12. Epilogue

"Now completely under its own control, Sin, as the beast became known, rested amongst the fayth. But then Bevelle's army appeared. The humans who led the group stood terrified at the sight of all the fayth gathered on Gagazet, and the haunting sound that could be heard coming from the many statues.

"Then Sin awoke and soared into the air. In fear, Bevelle's humans ran, leaving their machina on the slope. However Sin was not interested in the machina as they hoped. It pursued them down the mountain to the grasslands below, but soon lost interest in the few hundred souls below, and went off to find greater things.

"Months later, and after the destruction of many machina cities, Bevelle sent scout to brave the mountain. Working their way through the fayth, they found Zanarkand. A city in ruins, no one left alive.

"Thus was born Sin. Theories flew in Bevelle about the fayth on Gagazet summoning Sin, and that Yu Yevon was responsible, and thus the Yevonite church came into being in an attempt to lessen Sin's wrath.

"And that as they say is that," ended the old scholar, only now realising that his audience was asleep. Even the summoner and his two guardians, one a warrior, the other a man with an unusual, yet familiar mark on his chest, had fallen asleep, even though they seemed so interested in the scholars recollections when he introduced it as a tale about Zanarkand's last days.

As he left the Al Bhed shop and entered the perpetual thunderstorm outside, the old scholar said simply:

"Hmm… pity."


End file.
